Work Text:
“Not in the mouth again,” Sherlock scowls, throwing the cards away.
John suppresses a grin. It was a great idea to play cards for a wish. A nice evening habit. Helps you relax after a hard day at the surgery. Sherlock is too stubborn to quit and give up all hope of winning, but he never succeeds, and it turns out that John has lots of wishes. Some of them include Sherlock sucking and licking his cock – rather amateurish, but he learns fast. A bet is a bet, a promise is a promise.
“In the arse, then,” John suggests.
Sherlock nods. No big deal. He’s been through it already. A few times.
“No-no-no,” John shakes his head. “You must describe to me what I’m supposed to do, vividly. Then I’ll take your opinion into consideration. Maybe. So you want me to…” he begins helpfully.
Sherlock keeps looking away.
“C’mon, say it out loud. Otherwise you are welcome to improve your blowjob skills once again. It wasn’t so bad the last time.”
“I want you to fuck me in the arse,” Sherlock pronounces, monotonously. “Happy now?” He’s obviously sulking about the words “it wasn’t so bad”.
“Sherlock, it’s better to be precise, for your own good,” John encourages him. “We are discussing an important matter. You mean I should fuck you with my cock? Or I could use the riding crop handle once more.”
Sherlock shudders visibly. Good. You haven’t deleted this episode from your hard drive, then. If John were a bit more depraved, he would have recorded that scene just to see the peculiar expression on Sherlock’s face again, a mixture of anguish and unexpected, shameful, excruciating pleasure. It was somewhat cruel to make him lie on his back, right after the thrashing, but John wanted him to watch the process of penetration. Very educative, was it not?
“With your cock, yes…” Sherlock swallows hard and continues, more or less matter-of-factly. “In the bedroom. I’ll be on my knees and elbows. You’ll spread my cheeks, and use some lube, and stretch my anus, and then you’ll fuck me... Like you did on Wednesday, with hard pushes… And you can come inside of me,” he adds as an incentive.
John smiles. “Oka-ay. That’s better. Much better. Now I see what you want. I was thinking of a quick shag right here, on the carpet, but if you prefer my bedroom… Let’s make it more comfortable. And more prolonged.”
When John tells Sherlock to strip his clothes off, there is no underwear under the pajama pants. He really learns fast. Why bother, indeed?
When Sherlock’s arsehole is spread wide enough and slicked appropriately, John kneels between his legs, thinking that maybe he should have taught Sherlock how to prepare himself. It would be nice to watch Sherlock exploring his own rectum tentatively. He has such long dexterous fingers.
Next time, perhaps.
And he enters the loosened hole with one hard shove. The Wednesday scenario, right?
Soon Sherlock is almost howling under him. John is slamming into his pulsing arse, vigorously, hitting the prostate all the time (he’s not selfish, let it be pleasant for Sherlock too, even if it’s a rough pleasure). Finally, Sherlock reaches to grip his own erection, unable to hold himself back any longer. John stops him with a slap across his buttock and then squeezes his hips with both hands again: “My wish… Not yours… And you… didn’t… mention it… anyway.” Sherlock growls in frustration, and John suggests a deal, his voice breaking slightly as he keeps the pace: “You owe me… another wish… and you can… enjoy yourself.” Sherlock doesn’t reply, he just starts pumping his cock again, focused on the matter.
They come almost simultaneously.
After a few blissfully numb minutes, John pats Sherlock’s backside, feeling that he should say something. “You were so good… Better and better each time… Who would think you’re asexual now? I guess we have fostered another addiction in you. Besides gambling, of course.”
Sherlock mutters something indistinctly into the pillow. His thoroughly ploughed hole is reddened, surely sore, and John’s come is leaking out of it. Sherlock is still unable to get up and cleanse himself. He’ll have a problem sitting properly for quite a while… especially if… John smirks, poking three fingers into the dilated entrance again and finding the overstimulated sensitive gland. Sherlock jerks feebly.
“Another wish, remember,” John reminds him, reaching for the top drawer of his bedside table. “I’ll take care of you afterwards if it hurts a bit, I promise. I’m a doctor, after all. Now, lie still. Relax.”
Sherlock only groans in response as a thick anal plug stretches his clenching passage, still slick and wet, with its solid girth.
Of course, he knows that John is cheating at cards. Of course, he could have stopped it.
Maybe John should let him win once, as a kind of reward…
Someday. Later.
He has a few more wishes in mind.

round_robin Fri 03 Feb 2012 04:46AM UTC
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tenderly_wicked Fri 03 Feb 2012 12:21PM UTC
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msdistress Fri 03 Feb 2012 12:04PM UTC
Last Edited Fri 03 Feb 2012 12:05PM UTC
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tenderly_wicked Fri 03 Feb 2012 12:23PM UTC
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